The Actress in High Life eBook

Besides the unerased marks of a fall, L’Isle’s
clothes were travel-stained, and his face was pale,
less, perhaps, from fatigue and loss of sleep, than
from the violent excitement and revulsion of feelings
he had lately undergone. But he soon withdrew
Sir Rowland’s attention from himself to his
full and precise account of the state of the Andalusian
reserve, and the garrison of Badajoz.

“I am glad to find that this body of Spanish
troops are not, like too many Spanish armies, men
of straw, an army on paper,” said Sir Rowland.
“The French are trying to occupy so extended
a position here in Estremadura, that our Andalusian
friends may do capital service in harassing their
out-posts, and cutting off their convoys.”

“If they can be kept out of the plains, and
induced not to fight,” said L’Isle, smiling.
“But the Spaniard is always seeking to surround
the enemy, and force him to battle.”

“At all events,” said Sir Rowland, “I
can now give Lord Wellington a definite and reliable
account of their condition;” and, making a sign
to L’Isle to accompany him, he walked across
the room and seated himself at the larger table.
Here he held a somewhat prolonged conference with
Lord Strathern, in which the other gentlemen were,
at times, called upon to take part. When compelled
to speak, L’Isle distinguished himself by giving
admirable specimens of the lapidary style, not one
spare word. Sir Rowland had many questions to
ask and instructions to give; but, these over, he
gave a less professional turn to the conversation,
and then said: “I hope, my lord, you and
these gentlemen will share my poor dinner to-day; but
remember, I am not at home in Alcantara, and cannot
feast you, as you do your friends at Elvas; neither
can we sit long and drink deep, as I must return to-night
to Coria.”

“We will dine with you with pleasure,”
said Lord Strathern. “Pray, Bradshawe,
who could have told Sir Rowland that we sit long and
drink deep at Elvas?”

“Some thirsty fellow,” said Bradshawe,
“who had drained the last drop from his last
bottle.”

“Oh, my lord,” said Sir Rowland, laughing,
“I meant no insinuation. But I must finish
my despatch,” and he returned to his secretary.

While Lord Strathern and his companions awaited Sir
Rowland’s leisure, L’Isle sat moodily
apart, turning an unsocial shoulder toward his lordship,
giving him a glimpse of his back.

Lord Strathern smiled; he saw the earth stains, and
saw, moreover, evident marks of anger and chagrin
in L’Isle’s demeanor. His curiosity
was strongly excited, and he resolved to make the silent
man find his tongue.

“Pray, L’Isle how came you to let your
horse slip from under you, and measure your length
in the road?”

“You are so used to success that you will acknowledge
no failure, not even a fall from your horse, or your
hobby-horse. Perhaps you got tired, and took
a nap by the roadside, which accounts for your getting
here no sooner.”